The Harsh Land North
by Aquilla
Summary: a George and Alanna action/adventure thingy...... they're sent to Scanra to try and stop a war...well you know how trouble sorta follows those two around!
1. The Harsh Land North (1)

A/N: hey all! this is set about 2/3 years after Jon's coronation... 

Disclaimer: *bows down in praise of the goddess Tamora Pierce* (that says it all, doesn't it??) 

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**THE HARSH LAND NORTH**

"Things are that bad, Jon?" The King and his Champion were alone in the War Chamber, the rest of the council had long since departed. 

Jonathan scrubbed his face with his hands, saying, "They are. Scanra wants war - they're jealous of our prosperity I guess. After all, we do have the Jewel." 

"But that's crazy! A country can't just become wealthy overnight! I've seen how hard you've worked, trying to pull Tortall back from the disaster of your coronation. If they could get where we are today just by fighting us then I'm ten feet tall!" Jon laughed and ruffled his friend's hair - he knew how Alanna felt about her height. (or lack there of) 

"I'm sending you and George to settle things down. Along with the other ambassadors I need you there to prove our strength - they'll think twice about taking us on once they see you fight! George will be there to find out exactly how strong Scanra is - he'll have to go undercover for that, but I'm sure he'll manage." This last was accompanied with a dry grin - Jon knew full well that George would do more than 'manage'. 

*** 

Alanna sighed, it was good to be out of the city. She and George were travelling overland alone, the rest of the envoy having gone by more speedy ships. The King's Champion turned slightly green at the thought of sea travel - she had promised herself she would never again step foot on a boat, and by the Goddess, she would keep that vow! Her husband chuckled at the greenish tinge, guessing correctly what had caused it. 

"Not regrettin' goin' by horse, my Lioness? After all, we'll be travellin' through the winter." Alanna leant from her saddle and scooped a handful of dirt into his face in one graceful movement, wiping away his evil grin, but not the laughter in his eyes. 

"So it's a fight you want? Would ye like to dismount then, Lady Alanna, and try your hand at some wrestling?" In response she kicked Moonlight into a gallop and left her laughing husband behind. 

Two weeks into their month-long ride the travellers hit the foot hills of the Grimhold Mountains. Going along the Coastal Way as they were, they bypassed the mountains but still had to traverse through these hills. They set up camp warily, knowing full well the dangers they faced from hill men and raiders. It was for that reason Jon had not wanted them to go overland, but apart from Alanna's violent reaction to the thought of travelling by boat both she and George had wanted some time alone - they had been helping the King at court, which meant little time to enjoy solely in the other's company. Plus there was bound to be more adventure if they went by horse. 

"Crooked God save me, it's your turn to cook, isn't it?" George teased, drawing a scowl from his quick-tempered wife. "Oh lass, stop your frownin' - the wind'll turn and your face'll freeze like that." His gentle hands stroking her arms and capturing her waist belied his tone as he settled her against his broad chest. Seeing her stifle a yawn he chuckled and said, "I'll take first watch." 

About three hours later George's head snapped up - he could have sworn that sound was a twig snapping. Gently easing Alanna onto the ground he grabbed his sword and crept out to investigate. So silently that the man trying to steal their horses didn't notice until his knife was pointed to his throat, the former King of Thieves stalked his victim and whispered, "I wouldn't do that, were I you." The raider screamed, alerting his friends before George's knife was thrust through his neck. "Alanna! We've got visitors!" The cry was loud enough to wake the dead, and after a few grumpy seconds Alanna became aware of the fight around her and rushed to join, striking two men down on the way to George. 

Although the raiders had some training, it was nothing compared to the skill both George and Alanna showed - both flowing from strike to block and back again faster than the eye could follow. Finally the one remaining invader broke and ran, but was cut down by one of the Baron's numerous throwing knives. 

"Well, wasn't that fun?" Asked wife of husband, before she realised he was bleeding profusely from a deep gash across his chest. "By the Mother George!" She exclaimed while reducing her tunic to shreds so she could bind it. He collapsed against her from loss of blood, almost sending both sliding down the hillside. Quickly the knight wrapped the wound in bandages then set to work healing him with her magic, knowing he would be all right but still becoming frantic anyway. 

"Shh, love, stop your crying. I'll be all right." He gave her weak smile and grasped her hand before falling once again into unconsciousness. 

George woke first the next morning, smiling as he spotted Alanna curled up beside him with a death-grip on his hand. He winced as the blood began to flow through it once again, but the action of disentangling his fingers from hers woke her. She gave a huge yawn and smiled brightly at the sight of George preparing breakfast as though nothing had happened the night before. That was the thief she knew and loved. They struck camp and rode onwards towards Scanra. 

_to be continued_

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i know, i know, it's real short, but i promise the rest will be longer. anyway, this was the first of what will probably be a very looong series (hopefully at least!), but it'd be nice to know if u think it's any good or not!! (hint hint) 


	2. The Harsh Land North (2)

Disclaimer: what do u think?? 

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**THE HARSH LAND NORTH: **

**PART 2**

"You're lucky - a minute later and you and your man would have spent another night camping," said the Guard at the city gates to a very dusty knight and his man-at-arms. Aside to his companion the Guard commented, "Don't see how he won his shield." They snickered, but the knight ignored them, having heard such sentiments ever since he was knighted. 

"Come on, George, lets find that inn Miles told me of." Without a second glance they rode off, not noticing how the Guard's expression turned dark when he realised they were Tortallan. 

In the inn (! - sorry, couldn't help myself) knight and soldier sat and watched the crowded room, listening to conversations and gathering information. "I didn't think the commoners would feel this strongly. I thought only the Scanran court had it in for us." George looked surprised at her comment. 

"Nay, they hate us even more than the royalty. And why shouldn't they? It's them who'll suffer come war time, and them who hear of our rich farmlands and then look to their own barren fields." Alanna nodded at that, but was still worried at just how much hatred she could feel in the room. 

"This is not going to be fun." 

Although to keep up the disguise they had paid for two rooms, somehow come sleep time George managed to follow Alanna without being noticed. "What would people say, do you think, if they saw us like this, my 'man-at-arms'?" She was referring to the fact that to save water they had decided to bath together and were currently entwined washing each other. He just chuckled and splashed water in her face, which of course set the both of them off into an all-out brawl which ended up soaking the carpets. Neither Alanna or George noticed the sopping wet floor coverings, though, as they were slightly busy with each other on the bed. 

The next day was spent in riding from the border city of Krama (shut up, i'm struggling here!!) to the capital of Scanra, the great Drhamdi (so i suck with names). They were dressed in their best - Alanna wearing her gold chain-mail and George the uniform of the King's Own. Now they were ambassadors and in order to allow George to discover what he needed to they would not be able to act as though they were connected in any way, and whenever he was in or around the palace George would have to wear the uniform of the Own. 

As King's Champion Alanna was given the royal treatment and invited to sit at the high table at the banquet that night. It was obvious that the whole Scanran court disbelieved the many stories of her prowess and skill at arms, and she could quite clearly hear many of the younger knights snickering and making jokes about how exactly she had won the position of Champion. Beet red in the face Alanna doggedly went on eating, using all of her willpower to stop herself from cutting the idiots apart and bathing in their blood. ~It would _not_ help our cause if you went on a rampage, Alanna! Duke Gareth would _not_ appreciate it if you caused the war single handed!~ She kept repeating this to herself while staring at the Duke, forcing herself to remember just how terrifying it was when he became truly angry. 

Throughout the meal the King ignored her and the Queen sneered at her, neither even pretending to like the female knight. She did, however, talk to the King's brother, Duke Karl, who commanded Scanra's army. He knew her reputation as a fighter was not false, and Alanna was immensely grateful that he accepted her as a fellow swordsman. 

That night in her chamber Alanna went over the day's events and sighed. ~I wish George was here. I wouldn't mind them all hating me if only he was here to comfort me at night.~ She tried to be brave, to act as a knight should and just ignore everything, but she still ended up crying herself to sleep. 

*** 

George would have wished the same thing - that he were with Alanna in the castle - had he the time to think such things. As it was he was more concerned with staying the thieves that were swarming him trying to cut his throat. "Damn Scanrans just had to be the touchy type!" He muttered under his breath while swiping at a cutthroat's chest with his knife. The men backed up for a second, disconcerted because their attack had been held off by this lone man. That gave George the time he needed to set himself, and then before they knew what hit them three thieves were down, clutching at their sides. He grinned at their shock - he could even best Alanna at knives - and then lunged towards his next victim : an axe-man. The deadly weapon rose up under its wielder's mighty strength and came screaming down headed straight for George's head. Swiftly he ducked and rolled, coming up at the brute's side and slicing at his waist. His knife cut through clothing but stuck on a thick leather jerkin, and George only just managed to get free before his head was split by the mighty lump of metal. Weaving like a dancer he evaded the axe, looking for openings in his opponent's guard; one appeared and like a flash George was in, knife aiming for an unprotected patch just below the man's armpit that would allow a knife to slip neatly between the ribs and pierce his lungs. Gasping for breath the hulk dropped to the ground, axe clattering harmlessly behind him. 

"Just you and me, my friend," George whispered to the only man left facing him, a wicked grin playing over his face. Sweating from fear the man broke and fled, turning to glare as George chuckled humourlessly at his cowardice. "Were you under my rule, _friend_, you'd've lost an ear for that! Run along to your 'king' and tell him I said good day!" ~Damn fool~ he thought to himself. 

Before he had been so abruptly attacked George had been in the process of gleaning information from a pair of young Scanran thieves. They hadn't told him much, only that they knew the army was big, but they wouldn't cooperate with him when he asked for their master's lair so as to find out what he needed. He'd been about to teach them just how persuasive he could be when the gang of thugs had come to their friends' rescue, and now he'd lost all possible way of getting an audience with the King of Thieves unless it was as his prisoner. Tortallan and Scanran thieves had never had much contact - they had never been friendly even when George was a child. He sighed. "Jon needs this information - the conniving Scanran royalty will hardly show our diplomats their full army when war is on our heels. Oh for the Crooked God's sake! How did that happen?" He was referring to a deep gash that started in his shoulder and ended at his wrist which had only just started to hurt but had been bleeding profusely for some time. Running towards his inn he bound it with strips from his tunic, praying to all the gods he knew that he would reach it before the loss of blood sent him unconscious. 

*** 

Alanna had a fitful night's sleep, but knew that she would need all her energy and then some to make it through yet another day at court. Rising with the sun she set off to the practice yards, so similar to those she had spent most of her teenage life in. Here too boys and knights were hard at work keeping in peak condition, but all stopped and stared when they saw just who the small redheaded figure was that trotted into the arena. She smiled nervously at the gawking assembly, then set to work first with the exercises Liam had taught her and then with her sword, so that by the time she had finished every part of her body had received a thorough workout. Everybody else ignored her once she got to work - a female in their practice yards was shocking but she did not deserve their acknowledgement. One page who stole a peek was hit by his instructor and given extra duties for a week. 

That day the Tortallan delegate was given a tour of the Scanran army and its bases, which appeared to be quite small, especially in comparison to Tortall's. However they had been expecting this and were not lulled into any false sense of security - Scanra wanted war, and by appearing the weaker of the two it could entice Tortall into warfare and then defeat an unwary opponent, thus giving them the victory and control of all of Tortall's wealth. Duke Gareth was fed up with these futile attempts and requested that they proceed straight to the audience chamber for another day of lengthy speeches. 

These hadn't even gone on for an hour before the hatred the Scanrans felt towards the Tortallans shone through and knights were rushing swords drawn to cut down the offending diplomats. They were stopped by and enraged King who first glared angrily at his hotheaded young knights and then glared hatred at the visitors. 

"Your majesty," spoke Alanna, "this man here has laid a challenge at my door, and I would accept it. Will you give us permission to depart and see to it straight away?" At that Duke Gareth glanced sternly at his one-time pupil, asking her silently if she truly wanted to do this. Her curt nod was all the answer he received, but he knew that by the calm way she spoke and moved she was not going to give the fool any quarter. He could also tell by the fire in her purple eyes that she was not mad, but furious. 

"I almost feel sorry for the idiot," he said aside to another Tortallan. 

The King decreed that as the talks were going nowhere everyone would witness the fight, and they all settled themselves in the Royal Arena, Tortallans silent and Scanrans sneering. Alanna sighed wistfully as she looked at her sword - it was not Lightning but a different blade, serviceable and a good heft but still not crafted for her hand as her first sword had been. 

Bowing to the King, both turned to face each other and stood in the 'guard' position. At the signal to begin Alanna skipped back and around, playing with her victim, forcing him to strike first. He did and faster than anybody could watch she darted in and underneath his blade, attempting to disarm her opponent. He disentangled himself and stepped away, murder in his eyes. Stalking her he swiped and nipped, trying to force Alanna to open her guard and let him score the winning blow. Laughing inside at the futility of this trick she easily evaded his sword and continued to draw him out, trying to tire him. The Scanran struck, yelling insults at her country, her King and her honour, but instead of making her angry and forcing a mistake she merely grew deadly serious and determined to end the fight. 

The spectators could see the change in her mood, and her calm face with violently flashing purple eyes struck fear into the hearts of all the Scanrans - she looked like a spectre that would rain death down upon them all. Blade moving faster than the eye could follow Alanna leapt at her opponent, flowing her sword up and around his and ripped it from his grasp, stopping herself just in time from slicing through his bared neck. 

She turned to the King and watching dignitaries and said, "Tortall will not be brought down as easily as you think. I advise you to consider long and hard before you seal your fate." With that she stalked out of the room. 

With awe fear in his voice one Scanran knight whispered, "She didn't even raise a sweat..." 

After Alanna left the King stopped anyone else from departing, saying to the beaten man on the arena floor, "You know what must be done." With a nod the knight retrieved his sword and struck it through his own heart, not crying out once. In answer to the questioning gazes of the Tortallans the King merely told them, "He was beaten. His weakness bought him his death." 

In her room that night Duke Gareth shared dinner with her, neither wishing to venture out amongst so many hostile faces. "That was rather stupid, you know. They'll all just hate you more." 

"I know," was the quiet reply. "But I couldn't ignore the challenge, you know that! I'm Jon's Champion - anyone who challenges me also challenges Tortall, and I've sworn to protect our country with my life. It would have dishonoured us all if I'd refused." The duke smiled reassuringly at her glum and disheartened tone. 

"I understand. You couldn't have denied him, but did you have to provoke him in the first place?" Swiftly Alanna went from being remorseful to enraged at his comment and turned from the wickedly grinning duke to finish her meal in silence. 

_to be continued..._

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uh my fingers hurt, i can't be bothered to write any more at the moment. anyway, so more will be coming soon, just not just yet. 


	3. The Harsh Land North (3)

A/N: yeah ok, so i know there's some familiar stuff in these fics...... it's just i've read all TP's books so many times i hardly even notice it when they slip themselves in there...... please forgive me......but hey, i'm stealing her characters, so why not her plot-lines too??? 

WARNING: very gruesome 

P.S., to all those who hate mush, i apologise, but i just can't help myself. 

P.P.S. there's kinda almost two chapters in here cos i felt bad for not writing for so long......year 11 exams...*violent shudder* 

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THE HARSH LAND NORTH: 

PART 3 

George opened his eyes onto blackness. There was nothing: he was living in a world of fuzz and half-coherent thoughts. He could hear fragments from the world around him, but could sense nothing more that told him where he was or who was constantly looming over him and cackling mirthlessly. 

He spent what seemed like weeks in this mode of suspended animation, hearing enough to gather that he was not among friends. Slowly - ever so painfully slowly - the blackness lifted and he could see first a dull, lifeless eye, then a scratched and scarred forehead, protruding nose, pockmarked cheeks and a mocking, heartless mouth. His sense of smell returned at the same time and he was rather sorry for it, for the evil creature before him stank something awful! 

"So, sleeping beauty, finally decided to join us, eh?" His voice was raspy and steel-edged, and despite the words said there was nothing playful about this man. George suspected that anybody who crossed him would not live to boast of it. 

"Thought I might catch up a bit on my beauty sleep. Looks like you could do with some yourself. Try it - it does wonders for your skin." George's easy drawl sounded pleasant and friendly to all who heard it, but the Scanran thief-king knew that George Cooper was not a man to be taken on first impressions. He may be dumb, but he wasn't so stupid as to be taken in by one of the most cunning and ruthless men on the continent. 

"Be a good boy and remember who's in the chains. Here's some water if you want it," said he, placing a pitcher just out of George's reach. Chuckling to himself and muttering something along the lines of "This should be fun," the evil-smelling hulk sauntered out of the room. George spat in the general direction of his guard and turned his back. 

Three weeks had passed since that first awakening, and even the ever-cheerful George was starting to give up hope. His condition had worsened to such an extent that he could barely see out of one eye and not see anything at all out of the other: his face - his entire body - was one huge wound. For three weeks straight he had been beaten awake, given no food and minimal water, and hung by chains attached to his wrists at night so that he could just touch the floor with his toes. The effect was everything its engineer could have desired: George was driven near madness from the pain, both wrists were broken so even if he did escape he couldn't fight his way out, and his clothes and skin were dyed black from blood. 

Footsteps sounded near his head but he couldn't push himself off the floor. He was almost thankful for the boot in his face that lifted him up - he'd been getting cramped lying crumpled as he was. Now he crouched against the wall, rolling his head around till it was in a position where he could see his tormentor. 

"How are we this merry morning, me dear? Not too sore I hope, cos I've got some fun lined up for you today! C'mon - upsidasies. There's a good boy." All the while he was hefting George upright and attaching his wrist-shackles to the chain hanging from the roof. George involuntarily shuddered when he saw the quarter-staff being picked up and brought his way. 

Blow after blow rained down on him so that he was in so much pain it didn't even register after a time, and although his mind was devoid of most coherent thoughts he wondered how much longer it would be before he died. With a sickening crunch the staff connected with his ribs one too many times and four snapped, piercing his left lung. George didn't notice. The floor was a huge slimy pool from his blood but nothing registered. Strings of red trailed down his face and mattered his hair but he was so consumed by the universe of agony pressing upon him that nothing of this world could imprint upon his mind any longer. 

Finally the Scanran thief-king stopped his mindless whacking - when the man you're hitting stops reacting to the blows violence looses its interest. So George was left hanging both mentally and physically, and such he stayed till long into the night. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

In her sleep Alanna walked the roads between life and death, not knowing why she had been called to this unearthly grey wasteland but knowing that something had pulled her there and was pulling still. Mile upon mile she marched quickening her pace with each step as her sense or urgency increased. After what seemed like two hours straight running something appeared on the unchanging horizon and when she reached it she saw it was a man crumpled on the ground right before the gates to the Realms of the Dead, covered in his own gore. 

Wrinkling her nose at the thought of touching him she bent and turned him over, using the edge of her tunic to wipe his face and stem the bleeding. She gasped as she revealed layer upon layer of wounds and cuts and bruises, most of which were green with infection and puss. No matter how much she was shocked that one man could be wounded so much and not already be dead, she screamed in horror and denial when she realised just who this man was. When the Champion was over her initial mortification she went over her love's body inch by inch, ascertaining the extent of the damage while tears streamed from her eyes. 

Wondering how she was able, she summoned her healing magic, feeling it course through George's veins and breath life back into his body. In this space between the worlds it was normally impossible for a mortal to use any magic and so Alanna concluded that her patron the Mother Goddess smiled on her this night. 

Hours passed before either figure moved again. Alanna opened her eyes, groaned, and collapsed on the misty ground having overtaxed herself even with the extra strength the Goddess had given her. George merely rolled over and went to sleep - his first proper sleep for over four weeks. 

When Alanna awoke she found two hazel eyes contemplating her and a large callused hand stroking her cheek. They lay there staring at each other for long minutes, both thinking how close they had come to losing the other. They would have stayed that way forever had not they both felt the tug pulling them back into their true bodies, and so embracing one last time they slowly faded from view as the dream world melted around them. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

In his cell once more George stretched out his toes till he could take some measure of weight off his still-sore wrists. Just as his body had been healed in the place between the worlds, so too was he cured of all his wounds in this one. He didn't stay too long resting as he was, knowing full well that the Scanran barbarian would come soon to beat him more. "Well, my friend will just have a little surprise when next he comes, won't he?" For although the Scanran knew that while George's wrists were broken there was no chance of his escaping, even he could not comprehend the skill of the one time Tortallan Rouge. 

Silently he walked the halls, his Sight preventing him from walking into enemy hands, his skill taking him to the surface without a hitch. Not even a ghost of a shadow marked the passing of this master of deception and thievery; no guards awoke as he took his belongings from his room at the inn; no royal dogs were disturbed while he scaled walls and traversed palace hallways. Not even the woman who knew him more than anybody in the world, the one who could sense when he was hurt, knew of his presence. Of course she did wake up, and almost stab him with her belt knife, when he hopped into bed with her. 

"That's a fine way to greet your husband! I ought to bring you under the King's Justice, wench!" 

"Wench!?" She screamed in mock-indignation, "And since when have you ever been one for the law, oh wondrous ex-Thief King?" 

George grinned wickedly and replied, "Well take a look at my uniform my Lioness, and you tell me!" He was referring to the fact that as always when he entered the Scanran castle it was in the guise of a captain of the King's Own, and this time was no exception. Suddenly his gaze turned serious "Oh sweetling, you don't know how good it is too see you. But you and the Duke do know the Scanrans mean war, don't you?" 

"Of course we do. We knew that even before we set out, but we had to come for appearance's sake. I am glad you've come here though, the talks are going so badly that we'll be gone within the threeday, maybe even sooner." 

The Tortallan delegation left two days later by ship. The King's Champion and the Baron of Pirate's Swoop once again went separately by horseback, this time with no mishaps. Once all his commanders and important officials were in Corus Jonathan held a Council of War where battle plans and supply routs were discussed. Two days before Midsummer the Call to Muster was sent out, and a day after the celebrations finished the initial force rode northwards out the city gates. This force was 2000 strong consisting of all able-bodied knights and their squires, all 5 legions (500 men) from the King's Own, 5 legions of the Regular Army, 500 of the Queen's Riders and 100 men from fiefs Trebond and Olau and the surrounding villages. 200 men from each of fiefs Naxen and Golden Lake plus an extra hundred gathered from villages on the way would swell the numbers to 2500, and meet the force from Corus at the foot of the Grimhold Mountains. 

Safely ensconced at the foot of the mountains two weeks later the chief commanders were gathered in the King's tent discussing what to do next. 

"This war will be like none ever fought before," commented Jon. "There will be no battle lines and no set formations. This will be a battle of wits and small units, and I have a feeling that the terrain will prove to be just as deadly as our enemies." 

"Sire, how can we fight in the mountains? There's snow still on top of some of 'em and it's the middle of summer!" The stocky commander of Tortall's Army was no coward, but the prospect of fighting bloodthirsty Scanrans amidst precarious outcrops and unimaginably deep ravines was enough to turn any man's heart. 

"Yes, Lord Denwood, this will be arguably the most difficult assignment of your life; the most difficult of anyone's life in this tent. Now we must concentrate for the Scanrans have doubtless been waiting for such an opportunity as this and as such will know far more than us about fighting under these conditions. Sir Raoul, please continue." 

***** 

Creeping through the underbrush Alanna signalled her unit to halt and got down herself to spy on the group of Scanrans before her. The men were on horseback riding through hidden mountain passes and gullies, headed straight for the main Tortallan camp. Even though these men did have horses Alanna was not afraid of her unit losing them, for the ground was so rough as to only admit a very slow trot at best. 

It had been decided that all save five hundred of the Tortallan forces would be broken into groups of 10 to raid and pick off Scanran units, just as the Scanrans hoped to do to the Tortallans. Every unit had at least one person who could call for help magically if needed, and every soldier carried enough supplies to last five days. At the end of every fiveday the unit went back to base camp to re-supply and rest for a day, then travelled back into the hated mountains. 

On this particular mission Alanna, accompanied by George, four Queen's Riders and four Regulars, was to follow the Scanran unit and hopefully discover from them the location of their base camp. If that failed she was to face and fight them then try the same on another unit. Scouts and scrying were not much help, for the entire section of the mountains that belonged to Scanra was magically blank and the only way to avoid being lead off a cliff by the protection spells was to whisper the Word that acted as key. This was easier said than done, for as well as being militarily one of the strongest countries on the continent Scanra had a reputation for producing extraordinarily powerful mages that knew war-magic other nations didn't even dream about. The only reason Jonathan's forces were not blown from the mountain range altogether was that with the help of the Dominion Jewel he was able to retain some measure of protection for them. This protection only reached as far as Tortall's boarder with Scanra however, and so only those units with the strongest mages could survive traversing over Scanran soil. 

After her signal George and a Rider dropped from their trees and took down two officers while the rest of the unit surrounded the enemy and began to fight. The Scanrans fought fiercely but perished before the superior forces. That was until backup arrived, just as Alanna and her men were finishing the battle. This time the Scanrans had twelve to their eight, although luckily they were not mounted. The unit squared their shoulders and set themselves against the charge, only breaking formation after it had failed. Individuals paired off and fought, George and Alanna sticking together to fight a group of six. 

Dust and twigs flew everywhere as screams resounded through the small valley and blood and bodies littered the ground. The Baron took one fighter with a throwing knife while fending off another with his sword; at his back the Champion intermingled lighting-fast sword strikes with crippling shang kicks. Blocking a fierce strike at her head Alanna swept the man's sword up and over and sent it flying into the bushes, following with a deadly slash across his chest. One fighter tried to take off her head with his axe while she was occupied with another swordsman but in movements too fast to see she took out her assailant and loped off the axeman's arm, finishing the step with a flying side kick that sent a third man into the trees. George was rather busy himself, having already disposed of two fighters and trying to finish off the third while also attempting to draw another enemy from some fallen comrades. His wife got the message and came to help, leaving him to thrust his sword between the plates of his foe's armour. 

All in all sixteen Scanrans were killed, one captured for questioning. Two Tortallans lay dead and all members of the unit had sustained some injury or other, but nothing that Alanna's healing magic couldn't fix. Hunkering down by their prisoner George was preparing to question the soldier when he turned black at the edges and died. On investigation poison was shown to be the cause of death, a tiny vial of the stuff found attached to a bracelet on his wrist. All the Scanrans seemed to have similar devices, but for what reason none could tell. 

"My guess would be they're for situations just like this, so that none can question the soldiers." George's surmise shocked everyone, and an ashen-faced Rider said: 

"What!? You mean they purposefully inject themselves with poison - purposely make their bodies turn black and become dust?" Thinking that, the young man turned a bright shade of green and emptied his lunch into the bushes. Alanna grimaced and said to the others, "Jon must know of this and we've completed our assignment. Let's head home." 

*** 

King Jonathan was sitting outside his tent contemplating the stars when the lone female knight in Tortall crept up and sat beside him. "What're you thinking of?" It took a while for her question to sink in, and even longer for him to answer. 

"Everything," he sighed. "Just, everything. How the crops are going down south, the troubles of the Bhazir, how we're ever going to finish this war, Thayet..." His voice trailed off and he turned his head aside, but Alanna wasn't deceived. 

"Ah. Don't worry Jon - she'll be all right! She's strong and healthy, and Duke Baird's there to care for her. Nothing will-" With a wave of his hand Jon silenced her ramblings. 

"She just gave birth to a son. Baird contacted me in the fire." To this news the Lady Knight jumped up with squeals of joy and pranced about the place kissing and hugging and laughing at her friend. Calming down enough to stand still she grabbed him up in a huge bear hug and with tears in her eyes asked, "What will you name him?" 

With eyes equally moist her King answered, "Roald." 

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well there you go, some more mush for you. i spose i should explain that this is an epic, and as such there's gunna be every type of genre imaginable all mixed up together in it. and also i plan to have it go on for ages and ages, only of course it won't all be on this one war, there's gunna be heaps of side stories and stuff too, and i'm thinking of somehow tying in how Onua and Numair met up with the gang as well........ well, we'll see. and i won't be able to write for ages either cos i got exams *shudder* and heaps o' skool stuff to do, but i'll try. oh, and a little shameless plug, if u go into my profile there'll be a poem called 'The Butterfly' - please read and review, cos i got a writers award for it and i wanna know what u guys think........ok, enough bragging.............uh well i've run outa pointless things to say, so i think i'll just shut it and let you review the damn story already................please! =^__~= 


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